


What's the Occasion?

by Rizobact



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Blatant Misuse of Holidays, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Presents, possible cavity warning, sexual innuendo, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:32:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7847029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/pseuds/Rizobact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet told Drift to stop giving him things for no reason. Drift found a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's the Occasion?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlimReaper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimReaper/gifts).



> Happy birthday [iopele](http://iopele.tumblr.com/)! You are wonderful and I love you and you deserve all the happy Dratchet fluffs <3

“Merry Christmas Ratchet.”

“What?”

Ratchet looked up from his desk to see Drift standing beside him, holding a cube of his favorite mid-grade. Carefully flavored and perfectly blended, it was a treat that wouldn’t impair his skills the way high grade would so he could go ahead and indulge without waiting until the end of shift. It was incredibly thoughtful, exactly the kind of thing Drift often did for him. Except… 

“Drift, Christmas is a human holiday. It has absolutely no meaning out here in space whatsoever, especially since on Earth right now it is currently summer.”

“I know,” Drift nodded. “But I felt like giving you a Christmas present. Enjoy it before it gets cold! I’ll see you after your shift.”

Bemused, Ratchet watched Drift make his way over to the door, catching First Aid briefly on his way out. He’d done stranger things, he decided, and picked up the cube.

Mmm… 

***

“Happy Skaarlaxxian Independence Day, Ratchet.”

“...excuse me?”

And he had thought Christmas in July — in space — was silly. Now here Drift was, handing him a small elegantly wrapped package, much more suited to the aforementioned human holiday than an alien festival celebrating the overthrow of a vicious interstellar invader.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Ratchet asked, eyeing Drift skeptically. Actually he looked fantastic, having just come from the washracks after sparring. His plating gleamed softly despite the garish lighting Swerve employed, and quite honestly Ratchet found him more attractive than the box in his hands.

“Never better,” Drift smiled. “Here. A gift to commemorate the occasion.”

“Why would I want to celebrate the Skaarlaxxian independence?” Ratchet protested, but Drift had already pushed the thing into his hands and let go, forcing him to either take it or let it fall. He took it.

“Why not?”

With that non-answer, Drift once again left Ratchet sitting alone watching him walk away. Once again Ratchet found himself enjoying the view despite his confusion.

The TIC had left by the time Ratchet decided to finally go ahead and open the darn thing. It was full of soft energels, the kind with a gooey center that tasted divine and were absolutely terrible for a mech’s fuel systems. Ratchet, expert medic that he was, was well aware of this fact — and didn’t care.

All things in moderation, he thought, popping one in his mouth.

***

“Happy birthday, Ratchet.”

“For the love of—!” Ratchet cut himself off. “Drift! It is not my birthday. Cybertronians do not  _ have _ birthdays. What’s gotten into you?”

“You, hopefully,” Drift said cheekily from where he lay, splayed out on their shared berth. He had spoken as soon as Ratchet opened the door and turned on the light to reveal him. His smooth polished curves flashed invitingly against the rich covers beneath him, sensuous and irresistible.

Almost.

“Alright, that’s enough of this.” Instead of joining Drift on the berth, Ratchet pulled over a chair and sat down. “If you want me over there you’re going to tell me what’s gotten into your processor.”

Drift pouted prettily at first, then sighed and let the act drop. “You said I had to stop giving you random gifts for no reason, that it was disruptive and embarrassing and that it wasn’t worth the trouble.” The steely look in his optics said quite clearly what he’d thought of that last. “I’m just finding reasons to give you all the things you deserve.”

“Drift…”

“Shh,” Drift said, sitting up and coming over from the berth. “Know what the best reason I’ve found so far is?”

“I get the feeling you’re going to tell me,” Ratchet said as Drift settled himself in his lap.

“I am,” Drift said softly, leaning in to land a soft, tender kiss on Ratchet’s lips. “The best reason I can think of to give you things is,” another kiss, this one lasting longer and pressing ever-so-slightly deeper, “because,” again, deeper still, this time with tongue. Ratchet panted as Drift pulled back with a brilliant smile. “Because I love you.”

Ratchet didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly say to that?

Drift didn’t seem to mind. He simply continued to kiss him, murmuring the words over and over as if by repetition the medic would finally let them sink in.

_ Happy birthday, Ratchet. _

_ I love you. _


End file.
